


Stimulus and Response

by viklikesfic (v_angelique)



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Coming Out, Coming of Age, Family, Fluff, Kink Meme, M/M, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-14
Updated: 2010-02-14
Packaged: 2017-10-07 10:06:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/v_angelique/pseuds/viklikesfic





	Stimulus and Response

Spock's just a couple of years from finishing his schooling, from the time he'll be able to apply to the Vulcan Science Academy, when a small group of human Starfleet officers come to Vulcan for a month of diplomatic exchange and exploration. He doesn't have much contact with the group, being immersed in his studies and otherwise tending to keep to himself. One day though, he's on a quiet walk, trying to meditate, when a human boy about his age steps out from behind a rock outcropping. 

"Oh. Hi. I'm Jim."

Spock raises an eyebrow. "My name is Spock."

"There's really not much to do for fun on your planet, is there?"

The eyebrow arches further. "Pardon?"

"Fun. Y'know... okay, maybe you don't," Jim amends.

"Have you been to the library yet? It is very grand," Spock suggests, and Jim laughs a little, falling into step with him along the path.

"Don't suppose you're the athletic type, huh? Ever wrestle?"

"Unneccessary combat is anathema to the Vulcan way of life," Spock replies calmly. 

"How about this, then?" Jim suggests, tugging Spock into a little alley, a space carved in a cliffside. It's suddenly cool and dark, though Spock can still see Jim's blue eyes sparkling. "Ever do this?"

They're standing very, very close to one another, and the opening to the alley is only a few feet away. Anyone could walk by and catch them. Catch them doing what, exactly, Spock doesn't know. 

"Are you suggesting...?" He trails off, feeling the heat of Jim's skin in too-close proximity, a remembered fantasy coming to mind as his eyes trace the sharp angle of Jim's jaw. Vulcans aren't supposed to fantasize. Spock certainly hasn't done so since that day, two years previous, when Sarek caught his eyes lingering too long on a schoolmate's back one time too many. His argument had been presented in ways Spock could accept, easily, as a Vulcan. Procreation is logical. Men cannot procreate through a sexual relationship with another man. Therefore...

_"You'll break his heart," Amanda hisses, trying to keep her voice low enough that Spock cannot hear her. But he does, ear pressed to the other side of the wall, hand clenching the fabric of his shirt._

"A useless bit of figurative language. The heart pumps blood regardless of..."

"Shut up_," Amanda interjects. "You can't do this to him. I've seen the way he looks at..."_

"So have I. It is not our way." His father's tones are calm, measured, even in contrast with his mother's passion and fury. Spock hates listening to them fight, as if the two sides of Spock himself are warring with one another for dominance. He steps away from the wall and shoves down the longing he feels for his schoolmate, the simmering of the blood in his veins--not literal, but an intuitive situation for which direct language cannot suffice--when the boy lays hands on Spock to shove him. He pushes the images of passionate, illogical, frenzied emotional coupling down deep where he cannot retrieve them. Or so, at least, he hopes.

"I'm suggesting that you want me," Jim Kirk murmurs, very much in the here-and-now, the fingertips of the hand furthest from the light trailing up from Spock's hip to his armpit. The hand, then, pushes Spock against the wall by the chest, and there's a sudden flood of emotion, of memory, of _heat_\--

Jim's lips crush against his for only 3.7 seconds, and it's messy and imprecise and teeth are involved before he manages to flee, but it doesn't matter. Spock is lost.

~*~

"You shouldn't be here," Spock whispers. The moon is high above the meditation garden, and Jim slides onto the stone bench like he belongs there, thigh pressing from hip to knee along Spock's. 

"Who's going to tell on me?" Jim murmurs in response, his tone teasing. "We're the only ones here."

"Jim, I can't--"

"You can," Jim replies, sounding so sure of himself as he strokes his fingertips along that same path, knee to hip, that Spock almost believes him. "I brought you something." He unwraps a rectangular object and crumples the foil up, sticks it in his pocket. Chocolate.

"Jim, I'm not allowed to..."

"Come on. It's good. I won't tell."

"You are aware that chocolate is an intoxicant to my species?"

"Oh, very," Jim drawls, with a grin that might, were Spock human, make him fall in love. 

"I hope you aren't intending to..."

"I'm not gonna take advantage of you, Spock, c'mon. Eat the chocolate."

Spock hesitates, then breaks off a piece, holding it to his lips. Jim gives him a little encouraging nod, and he lets the square dissolve on his tongue, moaning softly at the taste. It's unexpected, sweet and earthy, and he closes his eyes as Jim takes his wrist in hand, pulls it to Jim's mouth. His tongue swirls around Spock's fingers, stained with chocolate, and then he starts to suck. Spock moans, low in his throat, an almost feline purr, and then he is forgetting his training, his emotional fortitude, with the other hand clutching the back of Jim's head, his leg slung over Jim's lap, their tongues duelling before he's even got his fingers entirely out of Jim's mouth. They share squares of the chocolate between them, licking as it melts against the warmth of their skin, even on a cool Vulcan night, and it feels like hours that Jim has him laid out in the rich soil, pressing his shoulders to the firm Vulcan earth and laying claim to his mouth as Spock in turn devours Jim's. When he sneaks back into his quarters, the sun's about to rise and he's dirty and drunk and mentally counting the seconds until he can see Jim -- his human_boyfriend_, he thinks, rolling the word Jim had suggested over on his tongue -- again.

~*~

Two years later, Spock stands before the Ministers and rejects their invitation to the Vulcan Science Academy. The look on Sarek's face, such that one can be discerned, is of resignation. The writing was on the wall from the time of their last argument, the day before Jim Kirk left Vulcan. His father may never allow a little kernel of happiness to bubble to the surface, but that isn't Spock's problem anymore. To Jim, he has made promises. They are both older now, and there are doubts, but something in his mother's smile when he tells her, something in the memory of Jim's fingers, lightly brushing his in the moments before the teenaged boy was beamed back up to a starship with his mother, tells him that he is making the right decision. The Standard term, "gay," does not come easily to Spock, but pride will come in time. He enrolls in Starfleet Academy, and he does not look back.


End file.
